


Dragonslayer Black

by Tasha_Hirsch



Series: Dark Souls [1]
Category: Dark Souls (Video Games)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 08:01:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25600003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tasha_Hirsch/pseuds/Tasha_Hirsch
Summary: Prologue to a series spanning story; a tale that follows one knight as he encounters the various figures that save and destroy the worlds within Dark Souls.
Series: Dark Souls [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1855486
Kudos: 3





	Dragonslayer Black

Norus stares out into the grotto, still dazed. He’d experienced many strange things in his journey, but getting pulled through some portal by a large hand was new. And yet nothing around could have produced the strange, twisted limb that brought him here. Moving ahead through the cave, he’s surprised to find a bonfire. To the Undead, afflicted with a terrible curse, only a bonfire offers warmth and respite. As if Lord Gwyn offers pity to them. He’s compelled to stay a moment and ease his wounds. But he refuses to linger, wanting nothing to do with this strange land. Exiting the cave, through a wall of fog, he meets only the first challenge of this land--a chimera of immense stature. Only at the last moment does he move his shield into place against the creature’s swipe. He feels the impact, but is completely unharmed thanks to the rough stone shield. He grips tightly the spear in his right hand, thrusting forward and up, twisting as it penetrates the lion’s hide of the beast. As blood gushes down the shaft, Norus thinks back to his obtaining it, forged by a series of blacksmiths to perfection. He pulls back, but in his lapse of concentration the chimera gets another strike in, knocking the warrior back and stunning him. As his vision darkens...

_ He lit the torch to get a better look at the room. There wasn’t much, probably looted by those who came before. With a relinquished sigh, he left the building and returned to his companion. He shook his head, and she understood. Together they returned to camp, tired from the day of searching. Neither wanted to say it, so Norus did. _

_ “My humanity is running low. I won’t survive much longer in this land, I’m afraid. We should focus on getting you home.” _

_ “You know I can’t let that happen.” _

_ Norus stood, the warmth of the fire ebbing. “It will happen regardless. I have followed you like the knights followed the Lord of Cinder, and so to will my end come. Follow...there are many leagues left to go.” He grabs his shield and spear, turning... _

His weight to one side, he drops into a roll, evading another swing from the razor claws. Rising, he turns and swings down his spear, lopping of the paw. Electricity crackles up the weapon and he fires a bolt at the chimera, ending its struggle. Its souls fill him, but still he feels empty. His heart is no longer in it, his courage born of apathy. Despondently he pushes on, down by only a little estus. And after conversing with fungus, he shuffles on. The spear in his hand weighs on his conscience more than anything, as every use of it fills him with regret for the man he killed to claim it. What he would give to rid of the tool, but these days it’s all that keeps him from his admittedly inevitable hollowing. Through a forest he wanders, and a familiar one at that. Only more regret, and the memories of how she sounded as she died at the shrine to her master. It isn’t long before he comes to another wall of mist, warning him of danger. Steeling himself, he continues, only to see some horrifying creature hurled across the courtyard he’s entered. Leaping upon it is a tall, lanky knight, who turns from the corpse to see Norus. The spear-wielding warrior recognizes him perhaps only a little too late--Artorias, the Abysswalker. The Knight of Gwyn who quelled the darkness. Artorias flings the creature he’d slain towards Norus, who dodges to one side, hefting his shield once more. Leaping high, the azure knight flips and brings his mighty greatsword down, grasping it in his right hand, for his left flops around limply. Expecting a swift death, Havel’s shield somehow stops the blow, though Norus feels the shock go down his arm. Perhaps he underestimated himself, or overestimated Artorias. The knight seems...off. As though he’s been damaged by the...

_ Abyss lay before them. Dark as ever, Norus turned to head back. “I never should have let her go off alone.” He needed her help, but she had not yet shown up. With the Darkwraiths around, she may even have gotten hurt. Pressured on by this thought, Norus exited the tower to see her crouched over something. As he approached, she stood. At her feet sprouted a tiny flower, a brilliant orange. In that desolate place, it seemed out of time. He could not speak, stunned by the flora.  _

_ “Never forget, Norus, there is always beauty to be found.” She lowered her hood over her face, and eased past him into the tower. Soon, after taking in her words... _

He follows through with an upwards slash, the long spearhead slicing through silver armor and blue fabric. Artorias stumbles back, critically injured. Norus himself is hardly doing so well, but he pushes the attack, shield raised. Though Artorias’ blade bites down, the younger knight feels it not, jamming his spear straight into the azure warrior, and then all is still.

The arena is quiet, no longer filled with clashes of metal and scraping on stone. Artorias collapses, his damned body dissipating like any feeble creature or great lord. All ends in ash, so Norus learned very long ago. Souls are all that keep one sane, human. And the death of Artorias reserves solace to none anywhere save the one who would put him down. 

And yet that solace is not brought to him. Instead he drops to his knees and weeps, having killed half of the Knights who saved Lordran. He moves on sorrowfully, heart heavy, and finds himself resting at another campfire. That night, he dreams of her again.

_ He lost sight of Smough, for just a moment, but with her on his side, he could relax in that regard. Ornstein, however, still drew his ire. The grand knight swung his spear, and Norus dodged. On light feet, he dashed in with claymore brandished, striking heavily before retreating. She’d given him that sword and taught him to wield it, and it was only in her lessons that victory came close. Ever cautious, they continued their dance, until a loud thud from elsewhere signaled the big executioner’s death. Ornstein knocked Norus away, going to his companion’s corpse. Dark magic filled the large warrior, whose size only grew. With Smough’s power, and the same penchant for leaping, Ornstein took to the air and brought down his spear. The stone greatshield Norus wielded kept back the attack, but she was sent further away, and potentially injured. Angry, Norus charged in, forgetting himself and his own safety. Before he realized it, he stood over what once was Ornstein, and not far from death himself. He felt a hand on his shoulder, a voice in his ear, and guidance to the back of the large room. There were words shared between the voice and another, and through it all Norus stared blankly ahead. Something had changed.  _

He knows this wolf. In another time, in another place. And in another size, at that, but there is no doubt. The Sif who reluctantly tried to chase him away from a graveyard is a far cry from the one cowering behind her fallen master’s protection. The dark creatures slain, he kneels before the wolf. She rises, barks, and becomes aware of her own salvation. She departs, leaving behind...a warped shield. Same as Artorias, same as his sword; broken by darkness. He takes it, if only out of respect for man and wolf. The Abyss had taken much from many, but Norus understands now why fate led him here, to this place and time. He could end the darkness, and so he takes up his spear and pushes on. Cutting down beings which look too much like the humanities that kept him sane for many months. He does not care. There is purpose again. 

_ He blinked himself awake. He could not remember much of the past few minutes, but...no, he could not remember his own name either. There was a woman though, and she was kind. But she had to leave. Then...the assailant. Another woman, this one wore blue. Then...something. His mind did not work as it should have. There was something wrong. There was...fire. He recalled fire. The blue woman...she made fire. Fire is...good? He felt like it should have been bad, dangerous, but his mind only let him see it with a sense of longing. What was he doing? What was he good at? He looked down, and found a spear. A good spear. Sharp, imbued with magic. He could be good at that.  _

What foul beast stands before him was once human, Norus reminds himself, filling a head with thought that, so empty, holds not even his own name. Besides him is the wolf, Sif, to lend her aid. She’s nearly as good with a sword as her master, hard as it is to believe. But he already knows, feeling the scar on his chest she would one day leave. Manus roars, or at least the beast that once was him does so. Sif rushes into battle, Norus instead keeps back. His shield gives him durability, his spear gives him reach, and Manus gives him no room for error. He leaps and swings with ferocity near equal to Artorias, but not nearly good enough. 

Though the shield is weak from the blows of many enemies, Norus casts aside his spear and holds the stone block with both hands. Feeling its latent magic still deep within, he taps into it, feeling it course through him. His body becomes stone all at once, jagged protrusions growing from him. The effort splits the shield, however, a crack running the full length. He drops it, striding slowly toward Manus, who pounds at him all the while. Sif backs away, injured and fearful, but Norus continues forth. He reaches out, grabbing Manus by the neck, and in a moment there is fear in those inhuman eyes. 

Norus squeezes, and tears, then walks away. Manus scrambles about, headless and dying, writhing out his last seconds of life. What happens next, the warrior cannot recall. There are only echoes of thought as the Abyss retreats, darkness collapsing in around. For the second time, Norus feels thoughts escaping his mind. His purpose is done, his time spent. He desperately holds onto his sanity, thinking that he must stop the madness. He repeats it, creating a mantra. Stop the madness. He could not have saved the wolf in vain. Stop the madness. He could not have risked his life in vain. Stop the madness. 

Stop the madness

Stop

Madness

Madness.

Madness. 

_ He strode forward, dragging along a broken shield and rusted spear. Blood caked its surface, and his armor. She tried to stop him, but he only passed on the soul of her beloved and then she was quiet.  _

_ The giant tried to stop him, but only would he leave after the giant had loosed one last arrow. And then he was gone. It was only after that the death knell was heard, a final cry from Kalameet.  _

_ They spoke of him long after, the slayer of the black dragon. Those oft spoke words stuck with him for many years. Slayer of the Black Dragon. _

_ Madness.  _

_ Black Dragon Slayer. _

_ Madness. _

_ Dragonslayer.  _

_ Black.  _


End file.
